


but i won't go far away

by pocky_slash



Series: Team Shithead [10]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Graduate School, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Negotiation, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: It's been a week since they last had sex and Alex is fine with that. He loves John, and that's what matters. So he doesn't understand why John is so insistent about coming up with a back-up plan.(AKA John's sex drive bottoms out and he reminds Alex there's a difference between sex and love.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Friday, folks! If you're new, you might want to check out [i saw the whole story unwind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7927810/chapters/18117139). Or not--this should mostly make sense without those 130k words of feelings and backstory.
> 
> Thanks as always to you stalwart old-timers, constant as the wind, light of my life, etc. If, on Monday, the "I'd be a hypocrite if I said you couldn't" line threw you for a loop, it's because that story technically takes place after this one. 
> 
> A couple notes:  
> 1) The explicit sex in this story is between Alex and John. There is no other on-screen sex or kissing.  
> 2) This story contains nine large-ish inline images.  
> 3) Many thanks to **weesaw** for giving this a quick once-over.  
>  4) Many thanks to my girl gang for consulting with me on text formatting.  
> 5) Title from the Magnetic Fields song "You're My Only Home."

Dr. von Steuben has a very particular cadence to his voice that Alex has never noticed before. To be honest, he probably wouldn't have noticed it now if he was close enough to hear the words, but sitting in the hallway, with a closed door and the length of a lecture hall between Alex and von Steuben, the man's voice is just a vague rumble that occasionally loudly peaks and then drops and then peaks....

Well, it's enough to distract Alex from the equipment review he's trying to write for his blog.

He glances at the clock in the corner of the screen. There's still five minutes until von Steuben's lecture lets out, and it seems like he's going all the way to the wire this week. If Alex was in the class, he'd applaud that impulse, but it's less exciting when he's sitting outside, waiting for it to end, with nothing but his least favorite kind of blog post to write.

With two minutes to go, he hears von Steuben's voice rise one last time, and then the general shuffle of bags and books being slung around, excited chatter, and footsteps on concrete. The door to the lecture hall swings open and a rush of undergrads steadily pours out, talking amongst themselves, laughing and shouting as they pass him. When the stream of students slows to a trickle, Alex shoves his laptop into his bag and heads into the lecture hall.

There are still a handful of students remaining--there are three talking amongst themselves, clustered together halfway up the tiered seating. A few more are lingering on their own, looking at their phones, and four or five students are waiting to talk to von Steuben. Beyond all of them, in the corner, Molly and John are chatting at a side-table as they pack their bags. Alex can't help the smile that spreads across his face as he catches sight of them and picks up his pace down the stairs.

"Hey, Ham," Molly says, spotting him first. Alex feels less embarrassed about his goofy smile as he watches John whip around to look at him, grinning shamelessly, bright as the sun.

"Hey, Molly," Alex says. He only glances at her for a moment, his attention focusing right back on John, who slips out from behind the table and skips over to Alex and--

\--immediately starts going through Alex's bag without even saying hello. The fuck?

"Uh, baby?"

"I'm so hungry," John moans. "I should have gone with you for dinner and I didn't and I thought I still had those stupid protein bars in my bag, but I don't, and I know you have gummy bears in here--"

"I missed you too," Alex says.

"Oh, fuck off, it was three hours, you didn't have time to miss me," John says. He makes a quiet, triumphant noise and straightens up, holding a half-eaten bag of gummy bears up like a prize. "I love you."

"Are you talking to me or the gummy bears?"

John steps on his foot, but doesn't look up from the bag as he fumbles to open it and then shoves a handful of gummy bears into his mouth.

"Very attractive," Alex says.

Molly joins them then, rolling her eyes.

"I'm glad you finally found food, Laurens," she says. "He's your whiny problem now, Ham."

"Fuck off, Mol," John mumbles around a mouthful of gummy bears.

"No thank you, that's Ham's job," Molly says. "You're a little too male for my tastes. See you jerks later."

John rolls his eyes and waves as Molly slings her bag up onto her shoulder and heads out of the lecture hall. Alex waves too, then tucks his arm around John's waist. 

"Do you want to go get real food?" Alex asks.

"That's why they call you a genius," John says seriously, and nearly drags him out of the room.

The halls are already deserted and the sun has long since set. The evening is chilly and Alex adjusts his scarf once they're out in the parking lot.

"I'm so fucking tired," John murmurs as they walk over to the car, hand-in-hand. "If I wasn't so hungry, I'd want to go straight to bed."

"It's not even nine," Alex says, but John just shrugs.

"I guess the late nights are catching up to me."

The nights _have_ been late for the past week or so--lots of cases, lots of weird errands and responsibilities, plus a concert Laf dragged them to and a party at Dolley's place. They've done little more than fall into bed and pass out for almost a week. 

Which is, well, kind of why Alex was hoping tonight would be different.

"We'll stop at the diner and get some food in you and then head home," Alex says. And, hey, maybe the diner will perk John up a little, at least enough to coax him into sharing a shower before bed. The combination of bathing and orgasms will be efficient, if nothing else.

"You're a pretty good boyfriend, Hamilton," John says.

"I try."

John grins at him as they get in the car and Alex is helpless to do anything but grin back. He's probably pathetically besotted, but at least he knows John's no better.

Unfortunately, dinner doesn't seem to perk John up the way that Alex had hoped. He smiles as Alex talks and laughs at his jokes, but his eyelids keep drooping and at one point he almost falls face-first into his waffles. Alex is honestly surprised he manages to drive them home in one piece, and by the time they get up to their apartment even a regular shower is out of the question.

"My hair is so gross," John mumbles as he treks into the bedroom. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it towards the hamper, then kicks off his jeans and doesn't bother to pick them up from where they fall.

"Baby, you're gonna freeze, put on a shirt at least," Alex says, watching John start to climb into bed in just his boxers. He throws John a henley that's hanging out of a dresser drawer and it's almost funny watching him struggle to get into it. Once his head pops out the other side, he falls back into the pillows, eyes already closed. He hasn't even brushed his teeth.

"C'mere," he says, the words half-garbled. Alex isn't quite ready to sleep, but he kicks off his shoes and strips out of his jeans anyway. He can join John for a few minutes, at least, even if sex isn't on the table. 

He settles under the covers and gets a sleepy goodnight kiss for his trouble. John wraps around him and sighs happily and falls asleep between one breath and the next, spooned up against Alex's side. And Alex means to get up and work, really. He shouldn't be this distracted by his boyfriend looking adorable--he gets to look at John all day every day. He can't deny it, though--it _is_ distracting, and if they're not going to have sex tonight, there are worse ways to spend the time then cuddling under the covers.

His work can wait a little longer.

* * *

Alex is cold. Alex is very fucking cold.

Sure, he'd experienced snow in his years in New York--he'd even been stuck outside waiting for buses and trains in it, huddled in jackets and scarves and cursing his decision to move so far north. The cold this winter feels different, though. It's colder and it's sharper and there's snow and he has to _go out in it_ for his _job_ and he wants to crawl into a hot shower and _never crawl out again_. It's practically _spring_ shouldn't this snow be melting?

John feels the same way, he thinks. They've just finished loading their equipment into Herc's truck. It's late--after midnight, the last time Alex checked, but he's not taking his hands out of his pockets to check his phone again. They get into John's car, which is _also_ cold. It probably won't warm up until they're most the way back home. Everything is _terrible_.

John's teeth are chattering as he starts the engine and they head back to their apartment. The ends of his hair are damp, which is probably Not Good in these temperatures, and Alex wants to get him home and out of his wet clothes as soon as possible.

Now there's a thought.

The heat in the lobby is heavenly and they both sigh as soon as the door closes behind them. 

"I'm fucking freezing," John says. As if to demonstrate, he shivers violently from head to toe, hard enough that Alex is temporarily concerned he's having a seizure. Alex steps close enough to wrap his arms around John, not that it does much good, and when the elevator doors open, they shuffle down the hall like that. 

The inside of the apartment is even warmer than the hallway, thank god for Laf's delicate sensibilities. 

"God, that went to shit," John mutters, unbuttoning his coat with stiff, shaking fingers.

"I mean, we got it," Alex says. "It's exorcised. But yeah, fuck, I wish there had been less ice water involved in the process."

John snorts and then shivers again. "Fuck, I'm cold."

"Yeah, well," Alex says. He crosses over to John and pushes his fumbling hands out of the way so Alex can finish unbuttoning his coat. "I've got some ideas on how to warm you up."

"Do they involve soup?" John asks. "I hope they involve soup. And whiskey. Do we have whiskey?"

Alex hesitates. Because, no, they don't involve soup or whiskey. At least, not immediately. And he thought he was being...well, pretty clear that it was an innuendo. Maybe he wasn't. Or maybe he should take John's lead and go down the soup route.

He lands somewhere in the middle.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a hot shower?" He raises his eyebrows as he says it. He hopes it's a clear invitation, but instead of smiling slyly at Alex, or even rolling his eyes, John shrugs.

"I'll flip you for the first shower?"

Right. Okay. Message received. 

"Go ahead," Alex says. He kisses John's forehead. "I'll find some soup."

"I love you so much," John murmurs. He kisses Alex's cheek and then makes his way to the bathroom, shivering every other step.

It's not a big deal, really. It's late, they're both soaked and freezing and hungry and exhausted. Alex is shocked that he even wants to have sex in the first place--he can't blame John for preferring a warm shower, a shot of whiskey, and bed.

Even if they haven't had sex in, like, a week.

God, he's an asshole. He's a total asshole. What does it matter when they last had sex? Their relationship is built on more than orgasms--John isn't one of the random people he used to hook up with in college, he's Alex's _boyfriend_. He's Alex's best friend, he's the fucking light of Alex's life and he'll always be the light of Alex's life, even if he never touches his dick again.

When John comes back out into the kitchen, Alex has a bowl of soup and a hot toddy waiting for him.

"You're the best boyfriend," John says, wrapping his arms around Alex. He's warm, now, and the scent of his shampoo hangs in the air around them. That smell has a very specific effect on Alex, but he pushes that urge down for the moment.

"Eat," he says. "I'm gonna take a shower."

And if he spends a little extra time in the shower placating his dick--well, what does that matter? He still gets to crawl into bed with John afterwards, and that's the best part, isn't it?

* * *

The timer on Alex's phone goes off at 8:45 while he's loading the dishwasher. He almost drops a mug in his haste to sprint from the kitchen and into the living room where John and Lafayette are lounging in front of the television.

"Is that the Yamada alarm?" John asks.

"Yup." Alex picks the remote off of the couch and turns off the television. 

"Relax, asshole, you have fifteen minutes," John says, but he's already pushing himself up off of the couch and grabbing his laptop.

"I need to be prepared," Alex says. It took him weeks to schedule this interview with Katsu Yamada for his blog. Yamada's cancelled on him twice before already, and Alex is going to get this interview if he has to fly to Kyoto and knock on the dude's door to do it. "If he hangs up on me after fifteen minutes, I want to make sure I've wrung every fucking second out of those fifteen minutes, you know?"

"I know," John says. He kisses the top of Alex's head. "We'll hang out in our rooms."

"This is _my_ apartment, you know," Laf mutters, but there's no heat in it and he's already halfway down the hall.

"Thanks, Laf!" Alex calls after him.

"Good luck!" John says, and then he's gone too and Alex barely notices, he's so wrapped up in preparing for the interview.

Alex calls Yamada at nine on the dot and he picks up on the second ring. He's much more cheerful than Alex expected after weeks of brusque emails and being brushed off. He seems happy to talk to Athenodorus, happy to answer questions, happy to go on strange and delightful tangents about his work. Alex can barely type fast enough to keep up with him.

In the end, they talk for over two hours and probably could have talked for longer if Yamada's assistant hadn't insisted he rush off to another meeting. It's after eleven when Alex hangs up and it's almost twelve when he forces himself away from his notes and the beginning draft of his interview post. He always likes to sleep on interviews before he transcribes them and it'll be useless to try and start writing before he has the transcript.

Plus, he's in a fucking excellent mood and he's eager to share it with someone.

Alex saves his work and flips off the living room lights on the way into the bedroom. The light is still on, which is promising. He kicks off his shoes and puts his glasses on the nightstand and slides into bed behind John, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Hey, baby," Alex murmurs, palming John's stomach.

"Mmph." John yawns and then rolls over, blinking sleepily at Alex in a way that is not conducive to Alex's plans for the night.

"Oh." Alex tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. It's definitely been over a week since they last had sex, now, and Alex loves John, he'd gladly be abstinent for the rest of his life if John gave up sex tomorrow, but...that's a really long time.

"No, no," John mumbles, "Did you want to have sex?"

"Go to sleep, babe, it's okay," Alex says. "You're tired. I'll go take a shower."

"No, no, no," John says again. He tries to push himself up into a sitting position with one elbow while he reaches over to stroke Alex's thigh with the opposite hand. "I can jerk you off or something at least, you don't need to do it yourself--"

"John, really," Alex says. He gently circles his fingers around John's wrist and pulls his hand away. "You're fucking exhausted. Go to sleep. I'll live another night without sex."

And maybe he shouldn't have phrased it that way, because John immediately looks guilty. 

Maybe he wanted John to feel a little guilty. Maybe Alex is a fucking asshole. Shit.

"Sometimes...sometimes I have a really low sex drive?" John says, not looking at Alex. "Not always--obviously, sometimes we fuck like, three times a day--but maybe you should--" He does look at Alex then, straight in the eye, no hesitation. "I mean, would you want to have sex with someone else when I'm not in the mood?"

"Don't be stupid," Alex says. "I'm not gonna die without sex. Go to bed, baby."

"I'm serious," John says. "I don't think you'll die without it, but I think--I mean, you could. You could sleep with someone else. That would be--that's a solution." He yawns again. Alex's head is starting to hurt.

"Look, it's the middle of the night," Alex says. "Go to sleep. I'm gonna take a shower. And if you're so keen on this, we can talk about it in the morning when we're all thinking a little more rationally."

"I'm not irrational," John mumbles, but he's already sinking back into the pillow. "I love you."

"I love you too," Alex says. He kisses John's forehead. "Go to sleep."

John settles, his breathing evening out again. After that conversation, Alex's need for a shower has evaporated, surprise surprise. 

Fucking sleeping with someone else. What the fuck did John think was wrong with him that he'd have to sleep with someone else just because things were a little slow at home? Fucking ridiculous.

He crawls into bed and spoons up behind John, burying his face in John's hair. They're gonna have a long fucking laugh about this in the morning, that's for sure.

* * *

"Hey, are you ready for that talk?"

Alex looks up from his tablet, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. He bites down so the rest of it falls back down to the plate and chews quickly.

"What talk?" he asks John. John, who's sitting next to him with his tablet and a notebook and a pen and a cup of coffee, like they had a business meeting planned. Shit--did they have a business meeting planned?

"About last night," John says. "About you sleeping with somebody else."

Across from them, Laf chokes on his coffee.

"I think I do not need to be here for this," he says. His chair clatters as it drags against the linoleum in his haste to stand up. He grabs his plate and his coffee and tucks his book under his arm.

"No, you probably don't," John says dismissively. Alex is still trying to make his mouth move right.

"John, I don't need to sleep with someone else just because you're not feeling it lately," Alex says. He can't help but wonder if he's suddenly in bizarro land or something. Why the hell else would his boyfriend be actively encouraging him to fuck someone else?

"Just, shut up for a second," John says. He scratches the back of his neck. "Look, the fact is...sometimes I just have a really low sex drive. I don't know if it's because of my brain...things--" Right, that's a totally accurate term for "crippling depression." "--or just the way I'm built or what. But even though a lot of the time my sex drive is pretty high, sometimes there are a few weeks in a row where I'm just not into it. It happens. It's always happened, as long as I've been, you know, sexually aware." 

John is blushing, and the part of Alex that isn't befuddled by this entire conversation makes note of that. John never blushes when he talks about sex. John _does_ blush when he talks about himself and his feelings. This is going to be an interesting conversation. That is, if Alex can get over his shock.

"We've been dating for almost seven months and you never seem to have anything but a really high sex drive," John continues. "So I'm just proposing that when I'm in a slump, you can go out and fuck someone else and that would be okay."

"I don't--" Alex struggles to articulate why this is raising his hackles. "John, I fucking love you, okay? I would do--we've been over this, I would do anything for you. I'm not an animal, I can control my fucking dick for a couple weeks, okay?"

"I'm not saying you can't," John says, with just enough frustration and condescension that Alex's shoulders stiffen further. "Look this isn't--it's not a judgement of you, okay? It's just that I know it's tough. Like, believe me, dudes have broken up with me over this before. I get it."

"Someone _broke up with you_ because you wouldn't fuck them?" Now Alex is tense for a different reason. "Jesus christ, what the fuck?"

"It wasn't--" John sighs. "That's not the point. It sucked, but whatever, that guy was an asshole. I was tired, he wanted me to fuck him, I didn't, I offered him a handy and he kicked me out so he could go find someone who would."

"He _kicked you out_?"

"Alex, this isn't--I mean, he didn't kick me out, kick me out, he told me I could sleep on the couch, but fuck that, I didn't want to listen to him fuck some other guy, so I took a cab home. But that's not the point. The point is--this happens and it's gonna keep happening and I _know_ you love me. That guy--yeah, I'd be pissed if he went out to fuck someone else because I knew I wasn't that important to him. I know I am important to you. Which is why I'm offering."

Alex closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "John, I still--I really don't care about sex that much, okay? It's not gonna kill me to wait."

"I know it's not," John says. "But I honestly don't care if you fuck someone else. Like I said, I know you love me. I know that...that sometimes sex is sex and sometimes sex is something more. I mean, even when we have sex, there are times that it's like, 'we're drunk and horny, let's blow each other in the bathroom of the bar' and there are times that it's...different. There are times that it's just...." John looks at his hands, chewing on his lower lip. Alex knows what he means. There are times that it's just him and John and this enormous weight of all that they feel for each other, all the things they can't even begin to articulate.

Sometimes sex is sex and sometimes sex is something more.

"Yeah," he says quietly.

"I don't want you to go out and date someone else," John says softly. "I'm saying I love you and if you want to hook up with someone else, I'll keep loving you. And I'll know you still love me."

Most of Alex's frustration and affront has melted away, but he still can't wrap his brain around this.

"I get that," Alex says. He mostly does. "And I'm touched that you trust me like that. And I do love you. But that means that I really don't mind waiting. I really don't. I'd do worse for you. You don't have to do this for me."

John takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"It's not just for you," he says after a moment. He chances a look at Alex. "I would feel...less stressed about the whole thing. I'd feel better about knowing I can't provide that if I know that you're not waiting on it. I'll feel less pressure to go back to normal."

"Okay, well, first off, I don't think it's abnormal to not want sex constantly. But you have to know I wouldn't--"

"I do know that," John insists. "But this week, you've been climbing up the walls. You've been fucking manic, you've had energy from six am to three am every day. And I know you've wanted to have sex, I've known every night. And it's been okay so far, but what if you're still like this for the next week and I'm still like this for the next week?"

"That doesn't--" Alex hesitates for a moment, which is all John needs.

"I'd still feel better, okay?" he says. "I'd feel better knowing you weren't waiting around for me. I'm not gonna force you or anything, but it's something I want you to think about. I googled it this morning and I made some notes. We'd set up rules, we'd have to communicate clearly--all shit you already love, right?"

"You googled it. You're such a fucking nerd." Alex reaches out and strokes John's cheek with his thumb. "I love you so fucking much."

"I know," John says. He removes Alex's hand from his cheek and kisses his palm. "Baby, we're talking in circles here. If you're really that upset by the idea, forget about it. I just want you to know the option exists, because it's been two weeks and I don't know--"

"Wait." Alex presses his thumb to John's lips to shush him. "We had sex like, three times last week."

John gently moves Alex's hand, grasping his wrist. "Well, yeah. But I was already in the 'no-sex-drive' place, so."

Alex runs the sentences around in his head a few times trying to figure out where the disconnect is coming from. He's being clear, he's pretty sure he's being clear....

"But...we had sex three times last week," Alex repeats once he's given up on working out the contradiction himself.

"I know," John says. "I was there. But that doesn't mean--sometimes you're really into it and I'm not feeling it, but I do it anyway, and sometimes--"

There's a creeping, sour sensation in Alex's stomach. "Wait, _what_?"

"Just, there are times you're clearly really turned on and I'm not particularly in the mood, but I follow your lead," John says, almost impatiently. 

"Did I--oh my god, John, have I--I haven't--" The feeling in his stomach has spread--his chest feels tight, like every breath is a struggle. "Shit, I never meant to like, force myself on you--"

"Calm down, that's not what I'm saying." John definitely sounds impatient now, or maybe exasperated, but Alex doesn't care because he's too busy trying not to vomit. He tries to pull his hand back from John--fuck, why does John even want to touch him right now?

"You're saying you didn't want to have sex and I made you have sex!" Alex's voice is high and panicked. "Oh my god, I didn't know, I wouldn't have--"

"Chill, Alex." John squeezes his fingers and shifts in his chair so he's facing Alex dead on. It just makes Alex feel sicker. How could he hurt John, why is John even still talking to him? "Seriously. That's not what I--that's not what I mean. I just mean, there are times that I'm not particularly in the mood, but I love you and I'm super attracted to you, so if you're sitting on my lap and kissing my neck, my body's gonna respond. And even though I wasn't like, 'Yeah, let's fuck' before, I get turned on and figure I shouldn't let the boner go to waste--"

John keeps talking like this is all okay and Alex is dizzy and out of sorts and disgusted with himself. "I never meant to--"

"Alex." John lets go of his hands and takes him by the shoulders firmly. He stares at Alex and his eyes are commanding and serious in a way Alex rarely sees him. Alex has to look away. "Alexander. Seriously. Look at me. Look at me, baby." He slowly returns his gaze to John's face. He can feel his cheeks burning with shame. "You never forced yourself on me. You never made me do anything I didn't want to do. You know me. If I didn't want to have sex, I would tell you or make it clear through body language or...whatever. You know I'm straight about this shit." 

He squeezes Alex's shoulders and something about that and the sobriety with which he's speaking, the strength of his words, makes the panic start to recede. He didn't hurt John. He probably didn't hurt John. He has to trust that John is telling the truth, that John would be clear if he wasn't interested, that John knows his own limits.

He takes a deep breath and then another, and something must shift on his face because John relaxes a little and his grip becomes less rigid.

"Sometimes, we do shit we're not 100% enthusiastic about because someone we love is into it," John continues softly. "Like--I like it when you hold me down, but it doesn't do anything for you. But you do it sometimes anyway, because you know I like it. Or, I think shower sex is more trouble than it's worth, but you love it, so every once in awhile I indulge you. It's the same thing. You're more into sex than I am, sometimes, but I'm not _not_ into it, and there are worse fates than mutual orgasms with my sexy, attentive boyfriend who's crazy about me. You're not history's greatest monster." John lets go of Alex's shoulders and gently cups his jaw instead. "You're not assaulting me, or whatever you're thinking in that big stupid head of yours. Okay?" 

Alex leans forward so their foreheads are resting against each other. He wraps his hands around John's wrists and feels his pulse under his fingertips. "Okay." He closes his eyes and breathes in and out and then opens them again. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course, you idiot," John says. He rolls his eyes and then leans forward and kisses Alex before Alex can move. Alex relaxes further and wraps his arms around John, takes comfort in the warmth of his body. He's not panicking any longer, but the ghost of his fear lingers still. When John pulls back, he kisses Alex's forehead. "You're so fucking sweet sometimes, even if you're also a dumbass."

"Hey," Alex protests weakly, burying his head in John's shoulder.

"You are," John insists. He gets up off his chair, but they only have to part for a second, because when he sits back down he's straddling Alex's lap. Alex hugs John against him immediately, presses his face into John's chest and sighs. "I've always made it clear, haven't I? Either by saying 'not tonight' or, like this week, shutting it down before it starts. If you pushed and I really didn't want to, I would say so."

"I just don't want to hurt you," Alex mumbles. "I'm really...I'm really scared of losing you." He thinks John knows--he _has_ to know, what with all that he knows about Alex's past--but it's still embarrassing to say out loud, embarrassing in a way his usual declarations of affection and devotion never feel. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, I really don't."

" _Alexander_ ," John says. Alex feels all the air rush out of John's lungs on a long exhale, feels John's embrace tighten. "Jesus, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never going anywhere, not without you. You don't have to worry about that. Seriously."

Alex sighs and pulls back a little before he does something really embarrassing, like cry all over John's shoulder for no fucking reason at lunchtime on a Saturday. John examines Alex critically for a moment and tucks Alex's hair back behind his ears.

"Sorry," Alex says.

"You don't need to be sorry about anything," John says. "I didn't mean to make you upset. Like I said, we can just forget it. I just want you to know the option is open. I don't want you to resent me."

"I never would," Alex says. He wants it to be a promise, but this whole conversation is leaving a gentle reverberation of doubt in its wake. "And I appreciate you thinking of me, I guess. I just...."

He looks helplessly at John. He doesn't know what else to say that he hasn't already said. 

"I know," John says. "And that's fine. But just...keep an open mind, okay? Think about it?"

"I know what the answer is going to be," Alex says. John raises an eyebrow at him. Fuck. He _hates_ when John does that. Alex can't withstand the allure of that single raised eyebrow. "Fine, I'll think about it."

"That's all I want," John says. He gets up, leaning over to kiss Alex's cheek as he does so. "With that settled, I'm gonna go watch the Mets game."

Alex frowns and glances at the refrigerator where '31 DAYS UNTIL OPENING DAY' is written on the white board in John's blocky handwriting. "I thought baseball didn't start for, like, a month."

"Opening Day is in a month," John says. "This is a pre-season game. Like, a practice game."

Alex just shakes his head.

"You're so weird."

"Alex, as a twenty-three year old guy, liking baseball is the least weird thing about me," John says with that stupid eyebrow raised again.

"Whatever," Alex says, as John scoops up his tablet and notebook, gingerly lifts his still mostly-full coffee, and goes out towards the living room, leaving Alex alone in the kitchen with his thoughts.

Now that the shock has worn off, Alex is left revisiting his behavior from the past week. Was he particularly pushy about wanting to have sex? But no--he was pretty subtle, at least until last night. Has he ever said anything in the past that implied that he didn't find relationships fulfilling without sex? He doesn't think he has, but then, most of his past relationships weren't 'relationships' so much as 'hook-ups,' so maybe that's where this stems from. Maybe John misconstrued how important sex is to Alex based on Alex's past sexual partners.

He doesn't want to keep thinking about it, but he really can't stop. Objectively, he tries to gauge how important sex is to his relationship. Sure, he and John met because they were both attracted to each other. They slept together the first night they met and the second and the third and the fourth...but even then it was more than that. Even then, they were comparing their likes and dislikes and writing together and studying together and spending time together. Back in August, Alex would have said that sex was the most important part of a relationship, but now...well. Things have changed.

John is curled against the arm of the couch, feet resting on the coffee table. His eyes are trained on the television, even though nothing much seems to be happening. Alex plops down against the opposite arm and swings his legs up, letting his feet rest in John's lap as he struggles to get his laptop open and find a safe place for his coffee at the same time. John's left hand drops automatically to Alex's feet, curling around his ankle, a warm anchor that makes Alex smile. 

"Who's winning?" Alex asks.

"No one, yet. Tied at zero."

Alex hums and glances down at his laptop as his document slowly loads, then looks back at the television.

"How come nothing's happening?" he asks.

"That's a new batter, he's just getting started," John says. He looks over at Alex, amused. "Do you want me to explain the game to you, babe?"

"I have better ways to waste my time than to watch a practice game of a sport I don't care about," Alex says. He probably sounds haughty, but it's far from the worst thing he's said about baseball in the six or seven months he's known John.

"I'm taking you to a Mets game this summer," John promises him, squeezing his ankle and looking back to the television. "You're gonna hate it, but I'm gonna do it anyway."

Alex bites back a smile. "I'll be sure to bring a book," he says, and returns his attention to his notes from last night's interview.

He loses himself in the work for a while, listening to the recording and noting the parts he wants transcribed, making a rough outline of how he'll present the article--or articles, actually, given how much material he has to work with. John occasionally breaks his concentration by cursing loudly at the television and asking angry, rhetorical questions ("What the fuck is _wrong_ with that guy?" "Did you fucking _see that_?" "Is that ref _blind_?"), but mostly he just keeps stroking Alex's ankle with his thumb, an absent, soothing gesture.

"Hey, do you think I should address the guy who left that stupid comment rant about emerging tech directly in this post?" he asks John a little later in the afternoon.

"Hm." John squeezes his ankle again. "Not by name. Your posts are at their most effective when you're not coming off like a condescending jackass. If you're refuting it in the text of the post, you'll make your point just as well."

Probably true, as much as Alex would like to rip that guy a new one publicly. Well, more publicly--he already responded to the comment with a lengthy rant on why the dude is an idiot.

"Thanks," Alex says absently and goes back to typing.

"That's what I'm here for," John says, and Alex stops typing again.

That is what John's here for. John's here for stupid afternoons where they sit together on the couch barely touching, but enjoying each other's company. John's here for answering stupid questions that Alex would like an outside perspective on. John's here to help Alex with his blog and to make him take breaks and to play dumb XBox games with him. John's here to hold him when he has nightmares and to kiss him in the mornings and play with his hair and talk to him about literally anything. 

John's here, too, because he's gorgeous and his freckles make Alex crazy and underneath his t-shirts and jeans he's secretly ripped and sometimes he gets this look in his eyes that's almost enough to make Alex pass out from how quickly his blood rushes south. But in a strange 180 from the night they met, all of that has quickly become secondary. The things about John that he values most, that he _loves_ most, have a lot more to do with his heart than his dick.

He's not sure what it is about that revelation that allows his brain to finally turn it around. Everything he was saying before about sex not being that important--it works just as well to support John's point. Sex in general is nothing more than a need that occasionally needs to be met. Sex with John is a different animal all together for all of those reasons and more. Having sex with someone else won't do the same things that having sex with John does, it won't fulfill the same needs. It won't mean what it means with John. It doesn't have to carry that weight or sustain that kind of emotion.

It will fulfill _some_ needs, however. And as shitty as it makes him feel, as much as he hates to admit it, as gross as it makes him...well, if John goes another week or two or three without wanting to touch Alex's dick, Alex might start to get twitchy. More twitchy.

 _Think about it_ , John had said. He's thinking about it. And, as with most new concepts that he thinks about, he has a lot of questions. The internet is at his fingertips--literally, he hasn't put his laptop down yet--but it's probably better for this to be a conversation.

He closes his laptop and folds his hands on top of it.

"Okay, so if we were to do this...if I were to hook up with other people occasionally--" John's entire attention turns from the television to Alex. He feels like a tiny bug under a microscope. " _Occasionally_ ," he stresses. "When I'm really out of my mind with energy and you're not feeling it--what would that...entail, I guess?"

John picks up the remote and turns off the television.

"You were watching that," Alex protests. "We can do this later."

"It's pre-season, it doesn't even count," John says. "This is more important."

 _You're more important_ , he's saying, and Alex can't help but smile. He shifts and puts his laptop on the ground, pulling his legs back towards himself. They both end up sitting crosslegged, at opposite ends of the couch, facing each other.

"So you're thinking about it?" John asks.

" _Thinking_ ," Alex stresses, but John smiles anyway.

"Okay, well." John leans over and grabs his notebook from the floor. "First off, we'd need to make rules. Dealbreakers, stuff to sketch out what this would look like. Parameters so we both know what we are and aren't comfortable with."

John was right--Alex does love rules and parameters.

"You've obviously thought about this a little," Alex says. "What do your rules look like?"

John consults his notebook, flips back and forth between a couple pages. "Okay, well, number one, I want to know if you're out with someone else. Not like, a blow-by-blow of what's going on, but I'd just like to know where you are. If you could just text or something and tell me you're hooking up with someone and whether or not you'll be home, that would be great." John glances up at him with that raised eyebrow, a clear question, not the skeptical disbelief it frequently denotes.

"Okay," Alex says. "That sounds reasonable. Good, even. What else?"

"I don't want you to come back here," John says. He doesn't even have to look down for that one, though Alex can tell he wants to. He wants to look away, probably to hide the way his ears are slowly turning red. Alex is touched that he won't let himself give into the impulse. "I don't want you to sleep with someone else in our apartment or our bed. Which is so stupid and sentimental, I know, but--"

"It's not, it's not," Alex says before John can work himself up into further embarrassment. "I wouldn't want to, okay? This is ours. Well, Laf's, technically, but...."

John relaxes. He closes the notebook and drops it onto his lap. "Um, the obvious stuff. Be safe, use a condom, take a fucking shower before you get back into bed with me."

"Check, check, check," Alex says. 

"No one we know. I don't care if you're sleeping with a townie, but if you hooked up with Dolley or Meade or someone like that...I'd just rather it not be someone I know." 

"That's totally reasonable," Alex said. "It would feel kind of weird hooking up with someone who knows us as a couple, anyway. Especially given our...you know."

"Reputation?" John suggests. "Inability to be away from each other for more than ten minutes when we're not working or in a class?"

"Something like that," Alex says. Molly calls them 'the marrieds.' Even professors in the department have taken to passing messages along to them through each other. The last thing he wants is any of them to think he's cheating on John, and even if he explains everything, it's still such a hassle. Better to stick to strangers. "Anything else?"

"Um." John quiets again and picks at his fingernails. "I'd prefer if you didn't like...date anyone else? Like, hooking up or sex or whatever is fine, but I don't--I'd rather you didn't--"

"I'm not romancing anyone else," Alex says firmly. "I'm not taking anyone out to dinner, I'm not going out with anyone, I'm just sleeping with them. Everything else I get from you--this is just...this is just a thing I can do when I can't get one of the things I need from you, right?"

"Right," John says. The corner of his mouth curls up in a smile. "And I think that's all I have. What about you?"

Alex thinks for a moment. John seems to have covered most of the questions he had--who and where and what. "I guess I have one thing--you get veto, okay?" John looks surprised. "When I text you or call you to let you know, you get to tell me if you're not feeling great about it. If you want me to come home, I will, just say the word. If you need me for something else or you just want to cuddle or whatever, just let me know. And I really mean it. None of this self-sacrificing bullshit, none of this pretending everything's okay. If it's making you feel uncomfortable, I won't do it."

John's smiling his awkward, earnest smile, the one that's a little lop-sided, with too many teeth. The one that's probably objectively not that attractive, but melts Alex into a puddle every time. Alex wants to kiss him breathless, he always wants to kiss him breathless when he pulls out that smile, but he restrains himself from pouncing, given their current topic of conversation.

"Thanks," John says.

"Oh, and one more along that vein," Alex adds. "If you decide this isn't going to work for you at all--like, not just one specific time, but that you want me to stop altogether? You tell me and I'll stop. I mean it. Everything I said this morning is true--none of this is as important to me as you are. I can go without sex. I just want you to be happy."

John's expression is unreadable, but he crawls across the couch and wraps Alex up in his arms, so Alex has a pretty good idea of what's going on in his head.

"You're so much more than I deserve, you asshole," John says.

"Nah," Alex says. "I'm pretty sure we're both big enough shitheads that we really deserve each other." John chuckles and knocks his head gently against Alex's. The bump must knock an idea loose, because for the first time, Alex stops to consider this from the other side. "What about you?" he asks once he pulls far enough away to look at John's face again.

"What about me what?" 

"I mean, are you interested in, you know...maybe sleeping with other people?" Hell, maybe that's the reason why John brought it up in the first place.

"Not really," John says. "I mean--if my choice is you or anyone else in the world, I'm gonna choose--" He pauses. "Okay, if my choice is you or anyone else in the world who isn't Chris Hemsworth or Jason Momoa--" Alex groans and pinches John's hip. He yelps and jumps, but it's not enough to unseat him from Alex's lap. "Ssssh. Kidding aside, if my choice is you or someone else, I'm always going to pick you. On the off chance that there comes a day that your sex drive disappears completely for large stretches of time while I'm antsy, maybe we can revisit it, but so far it doesn't look like that's going to be a problem."

Alex considers this, nodding slowly. "It's the same for me. You know that, right? You or anyone else, it's always you."

"I know," John says. "That's what this is, right? An option for when it can't be me."

Alex nods again. "I still don't know if I want to do it."

"You don't have to," John says. "I just want the option to be there. For both our sakes."

"Right," Alex says.

His stupid, asshole boyfriend--ill-tempered and secretly anxious and nerdy and tough and stubborn, but so considerate that he would think to make an offer like this. John is a puzzle that Alex doesn't think he'll ever be able to solve, and he likes it that way.

"We can type up the rules and guidelines later. For now, I'm gonna turn the game back on," John tells him. "If you want, I can explain the rules to you like you're a child. I hear dudes love that."

Alex has a lot more work to do on the Yamada interview, but maybe he can spend just a few minutes lying on the couch with John.

"You have fifteen minutes to make me like baseball, then I'm going back to my work," Alex tells him.

"I'd better get to work, then," John says. He lies back on the couch and pulls Alex with him, grabbing the remote to flick the television back on. They nudge each other and shift and cuddle until they both fit comfortably together with a good view of the television, Alex's back pressed against the back of the sofa and John's back pressed to Alex's chest.

Spending a quiet Saturday afternoon being together for the sake of being together--that's what's important. As long as he has that, he can figure the rest out later.

* * *

"Are you sure this is okay?" Alex asks for at least the tenth time since he left the lab. He's perched on the railing outside The Further Frog, rubbing feeling back into his fingers as he checks in with John one more time. His phone is pinched between his shoulder and ear, warm in the cool of the evening.

"Oh my god, Alexander, it's _fine_ ," John says. "I'm more annoyed that you won't leave me alone to watch this game than I am that you're going to fuck someone else, okay?"

"What's the score?"

"Do you actually care?" The amused lilt to John's voice has Alex smiling before he even realizes it.

"No," Alex admits, "it just sounds like something a thoughtful boyfriend would ask."

"Go," John says. "Let me know if you change your mind or need a ride or something."

"'Hey, honey, can you come pick me up from my hook-up? Thanks.'"

"You'll be singing a different tune when it's midnight and you're stuck downtown, freezing your ass off," John says. "Leave me alone."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too."

"I do love you," John concedes, tone a little softer. "Relax and have fun, okay?"

"Yeah," Alex says. "See you later."

John murmurs his goodbyes and Alex hangs up the phone and shoves it back into the pocket of his jacket. More than anything else in the world, he wants to be having sex with his boyfriend right now, counting freckles and kissing every inch of his skin and trying to communicate through each touch how incredibly lucky he is to have someone so understanding and compassionate in his life.

That's not going to happen tonight, though, so for the first time since their talk almost a week ago, Alex is going to try to find someone else to hook up with instead. It won't be the same, of course--he's purposely staying away from anyone Hispanic or with freckles or curly hair. It wouldn't be fair to them. But it'll maybe take some of the edge off.

He steels himself and marches into the Frog. It's a Thursday night, but there's a sizable crowd--some people he knows, some who are vaguely familiar, and some strangers. It's the people he knows who throw him off completely. He pulls his phone out again and fires off a text to John.

It doesn't take long before the shifting ellipses of an incoming reply pops up on the left.

Alex scowls at his phone.

There's a longer pause before the next reply.

John's right. He probably should have come up with a script of some sort. He's spent the last week obsessing over whether he would even want to pick up someone else and how he felt about the whole thing. It didn't occur to him to think about how he would actually do it.

Good point.

Alex lets it drop because he'd honestly been enormously pleased by the stupid heart when he saw it.

Alex picks his way over the bar and collapses onto a stool. They obviously should have thought this through more. The idea of all of their friends and co-workers thinking he's cheating on John makes his skin crawl. Rumors spread like wildfire in their department--if any one of those guys caught sight of him chatting someone up, every single grad student and professor would know by Monday, if not by morning.

He sighs and Maggie, the bartender, wanders over to him.

"Vodka tonic?" she asks. Alex nods and she grabs a glass and starts throwing a drink together. "Where's your boy tonight?"

"Home," Alex says. He hesitates for a moment. "He's--I don't--um, he sent me here to--"

Maggie drops a lime wedge in his drink and slides it over to him, looking at him with her eyebrows raised.

"I'm here to pick up someone else to have sex with but John said it was okay!" he says in a rush.

Maggie blinks at him.

"I'm not cheating on him, I swear, I can show you the text messages," Alex says, holding up the phone. "So don't think I'm an asshole if you see me picking someone up, okay? I wouldn't do that to him."

"I believe you," she says. "Also, I'm a lesbian."

"I know _that_ ," Alex says, shoulders hunched as he takes a sip of his drink. "I'm not trying to pick _you_ up. I just...know that you know us and I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Besides, one of the rules is that it can't be anyone we know."

"And there's no one here you don't know?" Maggie asks.

"No," Alex says. "I don't know plenty of people. But there are too many people I _do_ know."

Maggie nods slowly. "And you don't want them to get the wrong idea either."

"Exactly." Alex takes another long drink from his glass. There has to be a solution to this.

"Well," Maggie says, "here's a thought--why the fuck are you in this bar?"

"I told you," Alex says. "I'm trying to--"

"No, I know that. But why are you in _this_ bar? The bar where everyone you know and work with and go to school with hangs out?"

That is...that is not a bad point.

"Oh, you're smart," he tells her with wide eyes.

"The next shuttle to downtown leaves in fifteen minutes," she says. "You're welcome."

Maggie wanders away to help someone else and Alex thumbs open his phone quickly.

Alex downs the rest of his drink and leaves ten dollars on the bar--it's like, a fifty percent tip, but Maggie earned it tonight. After a chilly wait at the bus stop, where he spends a lot of time stamping his feet to keep them warm, Alex is on a shuttle into town and then getting off near the Green. He uses cold fingers to Yelp for his best bet and eventually ends up at a bar with a Thursday night special and a supposedly great DJ.

Alex isn't really a club person. He would go out now and then when he was in the mood to hook-up in college, but a place like the Frog is more his speed. He gets his dancing in at von Steuben's queer theme parties and there's no need to trawl the bars for hook-ups any longer. Or, at least, there hasn't been until now.

He adjusts to the volume of the place after a few minutes and orders a drink. His stomach is already twisting nervously. He feels like he's doing something wrong even though he knows he's not. He tries to get himself to relax; he rolls his shoulders and shakes out his arms and stakes out a corner where he can observe the dance floor until he figures out how to make a move or who he wants to make a move on or...anything, really.

He pulls out his phone reflexively and hesitates for a moment, then unlocks it again and thumbs over to his messages. It's probably weird that he's relying on strength from his boyfriend to give him the confidence for a random hook-up, but nothing about their relationship has ever been normal.

Alex laughs and then shoves his phone back into his pocket. Right. He can do this. He used to be great at flirting, great at making strangers notice him and want to talk to him. This is easy, and won't it feel great to go back to John having completed this weird goal?

He takes another sip of his drink, swaying to the music, and catches sight of a girl subtly checking him out. She's black, her hair is in cornrows, she has zero freckles, and she's a girl, so she checks all of the 'not John' boxes that he requires. He slowly makes his way over to the column she's leaning against.

"You don't mess around," she says, raising her voice enough that he can hear her over the music and leaning closer to his ear.

"I don't see the point," he admits. "I'm Alex."

"Kitty," she says, and raises her glass to him in greeting.

He probably should have come up with a plan of attack before heading over here, but, oh well. He can improvise.

"Look, I'm gonna be straight with you," he tells her. "I have a boyfriend and he knows I'm here and he's the one who suggested I do this in the first place, so, uh, I'm not looking for anything more than messing around tonight. And if you had other ideas, then let me know, because I don't want to lead you on."

Kitty laughs so hard she chokes on her drink.

"You really don't mess around," she says. He shrugs helplessly. "Okay, let's start with a dance and see what happens, Mr. Swinger."

"I actually did some googling when we were first setting this up, and technically, I don't think 'swinger' is the best term for--" Alex catches the look on Kitty's face and snaps his mouth shut. Right. He can get away with running his mouth off while seducing John--probably not so much with strangers. "Uh, I mean...sure, let's go."

Kitty takes his glass from his hand and puts it on the table, then pulls him over to the dance floor. Dancing with a random girl is different than dancing with John, but muscle memory kicks in after a few moments and it's not bad.

Neither is the kissing.

Neither is the rest of it.

* * *

When Alex gets out of the shower, John's asleep, facedown on top of his tablet in bed. He'd been a little afraid on the way back from Kitty's place that he'd feel weird or uncomfortable getting back into bed with John again, but the same fond warmth rolls over him. He finishes tying his wet hair up into a bun and then eases the tablet out from under John and places it on the floor next to the bed. When he tries to roll John back onto his side of the bed from his diagonal sprawl, John stirs and blinks up at him.

"You're home," John mumbles.

"I am. I told you I would be."

"I know." John yawns and rolls back until he's on his pillow again. His eyes aren't even all the way open. "Did you have a good time?"

"Mmhm," Alex says. He slides into bed and wraps his arms around John's waist. "Better now."

"Sap," John says, and then seems to fall asleep between one breath and the next.

"Only for you," Alex says. And then, with his nose buried in John's hair and their bodies pressed together, he falls asleep too.

* * *

Alex is on his third drink and John is on his fourth. They're sharing an armchair at one of von Steuben's house parties, squished together into the space. There's plenty of other open seating, but Alex is happy and relaxed and at the point of tipsiness where he wants nothing more than to put his hands all over John, so he didn't complain when John climbed on his lap instead of sitting on the sofa.

The thing is, John seems to be at that point, too. He can't keep his hands to himself and has long since given up listening to Molly and some third year history major gossip about something shitty one of the history professors was caught doing. And that's fine--Alex one hundred percent encourages John to touch him and play with his hair and kiss his throat, except it's now been three weeks since they last had sex. And sure, Alex picked up that girl, Kitty, last week, but that doesn't mean he's not still crazy from missing John's fingertips on his skin and with John's warm weight on his lap and John's hot breath against his throat and John's hands slipping up underneath his shirt, it's getting difficult to hide his physical reaction.

He shifts a little in the chair, redistributing John's weight across his lap. This month's theme is 'pajama party,' so the odds of hiding his problem are not at all in his favor.

"Babe," he murmurs into John's ear, soft enough that Molly and her friend and the guys on the couch can't hear him. "As much as I hate to say this, if you don't stop with the groping, the rest of the night's gonna be pretty uncomfortable for me."

John doesn't pull away. "Mm, I'd hate for you to be uncomfortable," he says. "Maybe I can help alleviate some of that discomfort." He bites Alex's throat and Alex has to swallow hard and quickly to stop from making a very obvious sex noise. 

He swallows again to clear his throat, eyes wide. "Really?" he asks. He forgets to whisper, staring at John with cautious joy. Ben Walker looks up from the couch to frown at them.

"Mmhm," John hums.

"Like, now?" Alex asks. 

"Whenever you want," John says.

The words are barely out of his mouth before Alex is stumbling to his feet, half-carrying John with him. John laughs, delighted, and wraps his arms around Alex's neck, letting himself be half-dragged out of the room as everyone watches them, bemused. Normally, Alex would try to be subtle about slipping away at one of these parties to fuck, but fuck subtlety. 

Usually, von Steuben's regular crowd make it a point to call dibs in advance if they plan on fooling around at the party. Alex hadn't bothered this time, so they're stuck in the smallest of the upstairs bedrooms, barely bigger than a closet. Alex manages to lock the door behind them despite John still pressed against him and kissing every bit of exposed skin. He wants to strip John and press every inch of their bare skin together, rutting against each other until they get off. He wants to take his time removing every stitch of clothing and kissing every freckle, reacquainting himself with John's body for as long as it takes. He wants to suck John's cock, he wants to fuck him, he wants to be fucked--it's only been three weeks, but it feels like longer, so much longer since they were last intimate in this way.

But still. There was a reason for that break. He manages to take John's face between his hands and pull him back just far enough so they can look into each other's eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Alex asks him.

"I'm sure," John says, and tries to kiss him again, but Alex holds fast.

"I'm serious," he says. "Don't feel obligated."

John rolls his eyes. "I don't feel obligated, idiot. I feel horny."

That sends another spike of arousal through Alex. Like he needed anymore motivation. Still....

"If you're positive," he says.

John grabs him by the hair and pulls him down for a kiss, hard. Alex likes having his hair pulled much more than he should, though not nearly as much as John does, and he makes a tiny, disappointed noise when John releases him and pulls away.

"If you don't shut your mouth, I'll be forced to put a dick in it," he says gravely and a laugh bursts out of Alex, unexpected.

"Is that supposed to be a deterrent, or...?"

Then John's kissing him again and they're both smiling against each other's mouths. John shoves him towards the tiny single bed in the corner, then shoves him again until he's flat on his back. Alex relaxes and lets John take over, lets John crawl on top of him, still kissing, slick and slow.

"This morning," John says between kisses. "You were wearing that t-shirt that was too small." That's true, although Alex has no idea where John is going with this. Not that he cares, as long as John keeps rubbing against him like this. "And it kept pulling up every time you moved. I wanted to push it the rest of the way up. It's all I thought about all day, that bare skin on your lower back, even after you put a sweater over it."

John sits up abruptly, but it's only to strip Alex's shirt off and toss it to the floor. After that, he's back to kissing Alex, his hands roving all over. There are going to be marks on Alex's throat and scratches on his sides and fingerprint bruises on his hips; he struggles not to come on the spot.

"John, John, John," he whispers fervently. He slides one hand into John's hair and pulls. John makes a high, desperate, sweet noise.

"Harder," John says, so he does--he pulls John's hair harder, uses it has leverage to pull him up for a kiss. John's eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide. He's breathing so hard he's shaking, his face flushed. Alex kisses him, lets him turn the kiss sharp and needy, lets him bite at Alex's lips as Alex struggles to undress him.

"I can't believe you're wearing a fucking onesie," he gasps desperately after his third attempt to pull down the zipper fails him. "Jesus christ."

"It's a pajama party," John says, and bats Alex's hands away, then slides the zipper smoothly down to his waist. The million shitty retorts Alex had die on his lips because, fuck, John's chest, John's abs, the bulge in his boxers, the dip of his waist, the lean lines of his hips...Alex has missed all of this. He should look ridiculous--the onesie is still hanging around his hips, some fuzzy brown thing from _Star Wars_ or _Star Trek_ or Star-something. This whole thing should be hilarious, but Alex's mind is just a chorus of _yes yes yes finally yes_ on loop.

"You're beautiful," Alex breathes out, and John laughs and shoves him onto his back.

"You're usually more chatty than his," John says as he wiggles out of the onesie and tosses it onto the floor. 

"Brain--thinking--you--" Alex sputters, not sure what he's trying to say and completely distracted by John's hands resting on the waistband of his boxers.

"And more eloquent," John says. "What do you want, baby?"

He wants too many things to articulate them, so he might as well give John the reins and let him take the lead. "Whatever you want. Do whatever you want to me. Whatever--" He gestures vaguely and John smiles and drops to his elbows, propped just inches above Alex.

"Let's start simple," John says, and kisses him again. Even the kissing leaves him desperate and aching and excited--sure, they've kissed in the past few weeks, even made out, but this is a different kind of kissing. This is kissing with anticipation of something more, kissing with intent, kissing designed to arouse. John's kissing with his whole body, his nails digging into Alex's back, his thigh pressing between Alex's legs, his whole body moving in some silent rhythm. Alex can't keep up, or maybe he doesn't want to. John's hands find his own and pull his arms up, pinning his wrists to the bed. This isn't usually Alex's kink, but he suddenly can't think of anything he wants more than for John to hold him down and take what he wants.

"Whatever you want," Alex repeats, babbling now, while John kisses his throat. "Do whatever you want, take whatever you want, I'm yours, John, _please_."

"Jesus _christ_ ," John hisses, breathing hard into the crook of Alex's neck. " _Fuck_ , Alex, you can't _talk like that_." His voice wavers, his whole body shivering. He lets go of Alex's hands and lifts up on his knees, but only long enough to pull off Alex's pajama bottoms and boxers and then pull off his own. When John lowers himself down again, his cock is pressing into Alex's stomach, rubbing against Alex's cock, and Alex has to suck in a sharp breath, willing himself to keep from going off like a teenager.

John takes Alex's wrists again and pins them down with one hand. The other clutches Alex's hip as they slowly grind against each other.

"I want to take you home and spend hours sucking you off," he says into Alex's ear, the words hot and slow and sticky and enough to make Alex's stomach twist and his breath catch. "I want you to fuck me until I can't stand. I want to spend all night eating you out until you're loose and desperate and then fuck you until you cry."

Alex arches against John's hold and he thinks he understands why John likes this so much, likes it when Alex holds him down. Something about the pressure at his wrists, the stretch of trying to move and knowing that he's not going anywhere, that John has him, that he has to take whatever John gives him...fuck fuck _fuck_.

He's missed this. Sometimes sex is sex, and sometimes sex is these moments in bed with John, transcendent with how all encompassing his feelings for John are, how consuming. 

"But I want to do those things at home, where I know we won't be interrupted," John continues. His voice is getting rough, now, straining with effort. Sweat is beading on his forehead, dripping down his temple. The curls around his hairline are frizzy and his eyes are so, so bright in the low light from the window. "Right now--" His rhythm is off, each thrust of his hips, each press of his thigh stilted, aborted, uneven. "Right now, I just want to have you as quickly as I can...so we can...so we can--we can go home and I can have all of that. Does that sound good, baby?"

The sound that rips out of Alex when John's hand slips between them and grasps both of their cocks is barely more than a sob. John's hand is on his dick again, John's body is sweaty and slick against his, and Alex is fairly sure he's going to pass out any second now. He wants to tell John he loves him, he missed him, he missed this. He wants to say something snarky, keep up their usual bedroom banter. But the only words that manage to escape in between gasps and near-sobs are _fuck_ and John's name. Then they stop escaping all together when John kisses him, hard, panting against his mouth, biting his lower lip, grinding his hips so his hand and their cocks press harder against Alex's stomach, so the friction is that much better.

It's too much for Alex--after three weeks of chastely sharing a bed and taking care of his morning wood in the shower and keeping his hands firmly above the waist, it's all too much. He makes an aborted noise that might have been a warning and arches his back again and comes suddenly and messily between them.

John finishes a few moments later, long enough that the immediate, euphoric aftershock of Alex's orgasm has worn off and he's just stuck feeling dopey and happy and sated. Extra happy, because he gets to watch John come, see his face, the arch of his back, appreciate the quiet noise he makes. He really is beautiful. The girl last week had been fun--he'd had a good time and burned off some of the nervous energy that had been following him around for a couple weeks. But for all the happiness he got out of getting to go down on a girl again and sharing cheerful, mutual orgasms with someone pretty, it had absolutely nothing on this.

He catches John when his arm buckles and he falls down onto Alex's chest, catches him and presses kisses to his forehead, his temples, the corner of his eyes, his closed eyelids, the top of his head.

"I love you so much," he murmurs. "You're so beautiful. You're so perfect. God, I love you."

Then John groans and wipes his sticky hand against Alex's stomach.

"I love you too," John mumbles, oblivious to Alex's gaping disbelief.

"Did you just _wipe your hand on me_ while I was showering you with affection?"

"Mm, I'll get tissues in a minute," John says and nuzzles against Alex's cheek. Alex shoves him halfheartedly.

"You're gross," he says.

"You just said I was perfect."

"Yeah, well, I've been known to embellish when it comes to you."

John cracks open one eye and grins up at Alex, eyes alight with mischief and affection both. Alex really doesn't have it in him to keep being offended when he has John sleepy and pleased in his arms.

"Give me a minute and I'll clean up," John promises. "I don't think I can stand up just yet." 

Alex snorts, but he's smiling.

"We'll clean up," John continues, "and then get dressed and maybe take a nap and then we'll go home and I'll make it up to you."

Alex's grin goes from affectionate to something closer to feral. "And how will you manage that?"

"I believe I made a list earlier," John says. He props himself up on an elbow. "We'll start there. It's only Friday, after all--we can see where the weekend takes us."

"I like the sound of that," Alex says.

"I thought you might."

He lets John take his minute to catch his breath, as uncomfortable as the cooling mixture of sweat and come on his stomach may be. That was nice, last week, that was fun, but he doesn't know why he was ever concerned it could compare to this. He doesn't know what he was so afraid of. 

John snuggles closer to him, pointedly _not_ getting up for tissues.

"Hey," he says, looking up at Alex with a sleepy smile.

"Hi," Alex says. 

"We're good, right?" John asks.

"We're perfect," Alex assures him. Except. "Well, we'd be better if you'd go get some fucking tissues."

John rolls his eyes theatrically and grumbles as he pushes himself up. "Excuse me for enjoying the afterglow."

"You're not the one who's gonna have to scrape dried semen off of his stomach and out of his pubes!" Alex says. He punches John's arm and John flips him off over his shoulder, stumbling out of bed to paw through the small chest of drawers at the foot of the bed.

"You're such an asshole," John says, and tosses him a box of tissues. Alex cleans himself up as best he can and drops the soiled tissues on the floor.

" _I'm_ the asshole? I'm not the one who used you as a towel."

John gives him a flat look, but a smile is already tugging at his mouth, and soon enough he's grinning and launching himself at Alex. There's not really enough room to wrestle on the tiny single bed, but they still roll around in a mess of limbs and laughter until John gets Alex in a headlock and they're both breathless.

Yeah, they're good. They're perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> End notes:  
> 1) Winter 2015 was a shitshow in the Northeast US. It wasn't as bad in NJ as it was in MA (where we got over 8ft of snow in 28 days and [literally ended up with something not-unlike winter PTSD](http://www.wbur.org/cognoscenti/2016/01/22/new-england-winter-snow-anxiety-julie-wittes-schlack)), but it was cold and terrible none the less.  
> 2) The Morristown Green, where Alex gets off the bus to go bar-hopping, is home to [that statue of A.Ham, Lafayette, and Washington where A.Ham looks 12](http://fourteenacross.tumblr.com/post/142764409300/housetohalf-books-and-whatever-softjoly). Just a fun fact for you. [Here is a picture of them wearing fluffy hats](http://bloximages.chicago2.vip.townnews.com/newjerseyhills.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/f/60/f607d39b-403f-566a-b95d-8640002df405/547f2f4cd9196.image.jpg).  
> 3) I grew up in a baseball house but I'm not a fan myself. That being said, for the sake of my father and dead grandparents I will specify that John's views do not reflect my own.
> 
> Coming up next: Alex and John are dumb boys in love, so John does a dumb, impulsive, in-love thing.


End file.
